


Moonlit Calling

by crazynoona



Category: British Actor RPF, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Fanart, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Not Beta'd, One Shot, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, a fanart at least, fanfic slash fanart, sort of a comic?, tasertricks - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-03-22 03:50:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3713881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazynoona/pseuds/crazynoona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Which includes Darcy Lewis, a phone call, and an annoyed God of Mischief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My second attempt on (random) fluff after [Summer on February](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3357389)
> 
> This goes for every lovely sweethearts in this fandom. Hope you'll like it :)
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy darlings!
> 
>  
> 
> xxoo
> 
>  
> 
> P.S : Btw, happy 19th birthday for one of my fellow tasertricks, I hope you read this, 'coz I might hold the 2nd chapter of [the devil](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3656781/chapters/8080377) in a delay for a few days ahead, I'm still musing over some little details.
> 
> P.S.S : Not Beta'd, I repeat NOT BETA'D

* * *

 

 

Loki had absolutely no idea why anyone in this realm (or another) would equip his brother with a thing called a mobile phone, because once again Thor had neglected it. Now the so to said  _mobile_  phone was nowhere in mobile along with the owner. Perhaps they should've tied it to the leather strap of his Mjolnir, maybe then it would be at his beck and call no matter where he was.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, threw a sidelong glance to the loud annoying thing with arising irk. It was such a fine Friday night, and for once, after all the mischief was done (spectacularly), though sans the chaos nowadays, he was taking a break, some ‘me’ time according to Midgardian custom. Said to be good for one’s mental stability (admittedly, he needed that).

The thick hardcover book was half devoured within the last hour and a cup of Earl Grey on the coffee table by his side, with fleeting music dancing in the background. All in all it was a perfect moment that he had yet to enjoy since a very long time.

That was until that  _thing_  started to ring, quite insistently.

Initially he thought to blast it off into millions of tiny little pieces, but no, he was a different god now. Anger wasn't a good way to channel one’s emotion, thus with a heavy sigh he decided to pick it up. He conjured the phone without having to walk all the way across the room and answered it like any civilized mortal would. 

He narrowed his eyes when he caught Jane Foster's name appeared on the screen.

_Wasn’t she supposed to be with Thor?_

“Thor’s not here.” There, he told her, she can stop calling now.

“Hell _ooO_ oo??” A woman’s slurred voice blared from the other line. It sounded like she was in the middle of a crowded place and most definitely didn't hear what he just said.

 

It was  _not_  Thor’s little scientist. If only the line wasn’t so disrupting maybe he could guess who was calling him (well, calling Thor technically) from Jane Foster’s number.

 

“ _Helloooo?_  You fuckin’ deaf dude?!” The voice repeated her question, in a much louder voice, matching the disturbing commotion behind her.

 

 _What a crude mortal!_ “You're not Jane Foster.” He stated dryly.

 

A melodious laughter erupted, swallowing her raucous background, “ _Pfft!_ Obviously!”

 

“And you're drunk.” His brows furrowing. That laughter ... he  _knew_  that laughter.

 

“No shit Sherlock!  _Mmm_... have anyone told you that you have a _yummmmy_ voice? 'Cause ya' do.”

 

“ ... Thank you - I suppose.” The sudden compliment took him off-guard.

 

A pause before her voice broke the silence,

“Gosh, I miss you ... dad”

 

“I am  _not_  your father.” He officially closed the book on his lap.

 

“You're not??? Then - why did you call me?”

 

“...  _You_  were the one who called.”

 

“Ooh right! I’m so sorry!”

 

He licked his lips, starting to regret his earlier decision to give in to his better-self. “I  _forgive_  you, now if you’ll excuse me I’m – “

 

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I bailed on our first date, I really do.  _Bitchface_  lied to me, she said that you - ”

 

 _What in Hel's name!?_  He cut her before she continued on her inebriate rambling, “I think you got the wrong number Miss - ?”

 

“Wait ... so you're not Michael from prom?” She sounded shock.

 

“ _Sadly_ , no.” He rolled his eyes. First she thought he was her father, _now_ he was her former suitor?

 

“Then why did you call me???” She whined, quite annoyingly.

 

_By Odin’s beard, this woman is infuriating! And she’s not even physically present!_

Loki frustratedly rubbed his face, no longer care on the purpose of her call. “For the last time, it was YOU who called! And this is  _not_  even my phone! Look ... it's been 'lovely' talking to – “

“Hold on! Please - don't hang up!” She desperately pleaded, the disturbing loud sound around her dissipated, he can hear her much clearer now.

“Why? You don't even know who I am.” He inquired, leaning back to the chair.

“No.  _Not yet._  But I can guess! I'm  _the_ Darcy Lewis and I'm  _reaaally_  good at guessing!” She pointed a thumb to her chest.  _What was she talking about? Why was she on the phone? Crap, who cared?_ She immediately shut off her subconscious inquisition.

 

Darcy Lewis?  _The_  assistant?

 

 _Ah_  … that explained the familiarity, his lips twitched in amusement. Loki remembered alright. They’ve meet only a few times (after his attempt on conquering Midgard one New York at a time), and he always thought that she was quite  ~~charming~~  fascinating for a mortal. For some reason, she never seemed to fear him. 

“Where are you Miss Lewis?” It was late, though things might run a bit different here in Midgard, he wasn't brought up to disregarding a (drunken) woman on her own device this time of the night.

“ _Mmm_  … not sure sweetie, New York?”

He grunted, his patience was running thin, “ _Where_  in New York?” 

“Hmm out the bar ...  _oo_ _h_  I can see the moon! It’s damn pretty … oh wow, it made me wanted to sing,” To his horror, she did, she sang.

 _By the Norns,_ _this is pointless!_  He shook his head in disbelief. He activated the GPS on Thor's phone to track her down (all the while listened to her singing about some pale moon that excited her), it wasn't hard since she was using Jane Foster’s mobile phone.

A few seconds later he locked her location, it wasn't far from the Stark Tower, just a couple of blocks away.

Within a flash he was merely feet apart behind the girl who drunk called him. Attired in black jeans, casual oversized electric-blue sweater and black boots, her hair was loose down her shoulder. She was leaning to the burnt sunset-colored brick wall outside a fancy bar, her eyes were closed while she kept on singing out of tune, a wide grin on her full lips.

The sight made him wanted to smile too, it was alluringly silly yet enchanting. She was right about the moon, it did shine beautifully. It cast over her feature like a fantasy, a magical creature painted by the silver light.

He was about to make his way to where she stood (leaned), when two men appeared from the obscured alley a few feet from where he teleported himself, eyeing her with wolfish eyes and leery sniggers.

Before they even think to act upon their thought, he approached menacingly,

"Leave.”

One word, that was all it took as his eyes glared daggers. They fled without a second glance. Good. He wasn't in the bone-breaking, limb-tearing kind of mood, not tonight, besides they were no match for him, none of the mortal was.

"Hello?  _Hellooo_  are you still there?" She called out to her phone (her song ended after the last refrain).

“Yes Miss Lewis. I'm still here.” He answered her through the speaker. He hadn’t cut off the line yet, letting the connection between them weaves on the flimsy web of the electronic device, keeping his distance, incase he'd fright her.

“Great! You know, I really do like your voice ... you remind me of someone.”

“Do I? Whom that might be?” They were exactly twenty feet apart. He leaned his shoulder to the same brick wall that she was resting her head, keeping his eyes on her.

The distant sound of merry music and people laughter mingled in the crisp air whilst the drifting cold night wind kissed their skin. It was a good wake up call for her drunken state. So he kept her talking, all the while enjoying the resonance of her raspy voice in his ear.

“Just this crazy alien dude, he's actually hot, _like_ , smokin’ HOT, just don’t tell anyone I ever said that, they might question my morality, seriously, DON’T tell a soul.” She babbled, he noticed that her hands were doing the talking too.

“I blame his eyes … “ She lingered at the sentence, as if portraying the image of that man in her mind. And she did. She was drawing his eyes, his face in her cerebrum, that lonely yet lovely pair of mesmerizing emerald eyes, “…  _aaand_  his overall prettiness, but you wouldn’t understand, since you’re a guy too,  _unless_ you play for the other team.”

He chuckled, "I assure you Miss Lewis, your secret is safe with me."  

“Thank you! Gosh you're such a cool dude!” 

"Who is he, if u don’t mind telling me?” He lured her. Loki obviously already has an inkling on  _whom_ that might be and the thought alone amused him.

“Ooh … he's  _nobody_  really, just an asshat that tried to run the world, he thought he was Queen B or something.”

 

“Queen Bee?”

 

“Yeah! Who run the world?”

 

“Was that rhetorical?”

 

“Dude, you really  _don’t_  know that song? Man, where are you from?”

 

“Quite far from where you are apparently.”

 

“ _Ahh_ … waiiiiit don’t say it, let me guess,” She did say that she was good with this.

 

“Why not. Humor me.”

 

“Ha, this is 'bloody' easy! You're from England! Like James Bond! Like the Queen!” She pointed her finger, as if they were conversing right in front of each other.

 

“ _Another_  Queen?”

 

“Yes! Oh god, hold on a sec ... I think I'm - “ She can feel her legs losing their balance and the stars in her eyes were spinning in circles before they formed a line of blur.

A split second before she hit the ground, he was there to catch her fall. His hands coiled around her waist. He lifted her back on her feet, leaning her body to his, her hands were on his chest, gripping tight for support.

 

“You shouldn’t drink.”

 

“I know  _ughh_... I never got drunk before, I prefer hot cocoa or coffee really, it was Erik's birthday and he was like -   _wait a minute_  ...” She finally lifted her eyes to met his face. A pair of clear midnight blue collided to a set of emerald green.

 

“Come, let’s get you home.”

 

 _Sweet baby Jeeesus/Mary/Joseph!!!_  Darcy adjusted her glasses, "You  _are_ the fuckin' asshat!” Wide-eyed she stared at him. 

_Goddamnit! He looks even prettier up close!_

 

“No.” He leaned her back to the wall again, both his hands trapping on either side of her body, supporting her if somehow she starts to waver again.

 

“No?”

 

He looked straight into her eyes, “No,  _I_  am the former king of Asgard and  _you_  are drunk and I'm taking you home.”

 

She blinked a few times, then she startled him when she suddenly snugged into his personal space, “Okay,  _mmmh_  … you smell sooo nice.”

 

He was quite taken aback at the intimate gesture. They’re not at this level of friendship, or any kind of kinship in that matter (though that didn’t mean that he doesn’t like it). “I wish I could say the same thing to you.”

 

“Ouch dude that was rude! You don’t say that to – “ Her words cut off mid sentence, she brusquely pushed him to the side then –  _ugh,_  vehemently puke on the cold pavement right beside them. Classy.

 

“It’s a terrible idea to get drunk before you eat Miss Lewis.” He held her hair up with one hand while the other patted her back.

She answered with incoherent babbles, though judging from her tone, he gathered that she agreed with his words.

“Where do you live? Let me take you home.” He asked when she was finished retching her gut out.

After she made him cross his heart (?) and swore off subjugating Earth, she finally gave him the full address (a few fail attempts was a given). Her complexion pallid, one of her hands was still clutching to his shirt with a death grip.

He held her closer to his embrace and zapped both of them to the exact location that she mentioned. It was located in a lush avenue with tress lining on either side of the wide road, a small yet cozy place. Rouged in hues of warm colors that suited her perfectly. Loki swiftly carried her to her bedchamber (it wasn’t hard to guess which one).

Another flick of his fingers and she was back to her clean sparkly self, wearing a fresh shirt and faded sweatpants. With his hand around her shoulders and the other under her knees he carefully placed her on her bed, took off her glasses, setting them aside on her nightstand.

Briefly he chanted a healing spell over her, so she wouldn’t wake up with a pounding headache in the morning. 

“Yo, former King of Asgard ...” She called out suddenly, her voice soft, almost inaudible if they weren’t so close to each other (he was sitting on her bed and practically looming on top of her).

“Yes, peasant?” He replied, his fingers entangled to her rich brown hair.

She grinned at the humor (it was a joke right?), “Thank you.”

He smiled, “You are most welcome Miss Lewis.”

“It’s Darcy and I owe you one.” She corrected him, patted him on his chest with the same hand that was gripping his shirt.

“I'll keep the tab. Now sleep, Darcy.” Once again he rubbed her back, from the base of her neck down to her spine and she purred like a happy cat. He traced fingers along her jawline, such a fair creature, he thought, and without further assessment (or logical explanation) he leaned down to land a lingering kiss on her forehead.

“Good night ... my asshat king.” She softly giggled all the while closing her eyes.

“Good night milady drunkard.” He gently carresed her cheek with one thumb for the last time before he left her to rest.

 

That night, Darcy dreamt a very nice dream, where a bewitching prince visited her, took her out for a walk under a breezy moonlit New York. It was magical, whimsical, it made her wanted to sleep a bit longer, to bask in her dream a bit further.

When the sun came, she woke with the most amazing feeling ever. Utterly relaxed and refreshed, she was expecting a hangover, but there was none, perhaps her body was more apt that she gave herself credit for.

A long hot shower and a cup of coffee later she finally felt alive, her conscious started to aggravate the memory of her short dream, because in reality, she couldn’t recall what went down last night and why was Jane's mobile phone ended up with her. She swore to herself never to partake in another drinking venture with Erik in the future.

Speaking of Erik, she better called him to ask what actually happened, (whether there was any puking or boobs flashing) and she was about to - with her suddenly fully charged device (?), when she spotted a new entry in her phone.

The mysterious new entry was also saved as her number one contact  _and_  emergency dial.

 

_Huh?_

 

_Who the heck is ‘Asshat King’?_

 

 

***

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I nailed the fluff (and humour) ... but incase I didn't, hey, practice makes perfect right ;)
> 
> In the back of his mind Loki knew who was calling all along, that's why he didn't hang up ;) and the song that she sang was 'The Nearness of You' (though the one playing as I typed was Ella's Manhattan ... because deep down in my heart, I'm as old as Mr. Star-Spangled Banner), and the image of Darcy's place was from Ms. Bradshaw's avenue.
> 
> Initially the idea for this one-shot popped weeks ago when I saw a prompt somewhere in tumblr (or should I say ... tomblr), on Darcy and Loki LDR-ing, conversing on the telephone (or somewhere along the line, I honestly cannot remember the details, semantics right), it turned out quite differently though lol but at least they were talking, on the phone!  
>   
> Thanks for stopping by, wishing everyone a great weekend!
> 
>  
> 
> ** Moral of the story : do not get drunk, ever, unless Loki was on your speed dial ;p


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings my fellow shipper!  
> I got this laying around in my draft for a while now (not sure whether it was good enough to post), but since the rest got automatically deleted by the system just now, I thought, hey, why not just post it before it got deleted completely? And it kinda bother me to see another WIP in my list. All three additional chapters are done (each are very short with a bit of fan-art that I did for no apparent reason other than me being silly), so it won't take much of your time ;)
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy darlings!
> 
>  
> 
> xxoo
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. :  
> The inspiration for this one was heavily shadowed by Disney's 1955 "Lady and The Tramp", the song played by the accordion was 1967 classic and many covered "Can't Take My Eyes Off You" (though imprinted in my mind, the best was when Ledger sang it for Stiles on the school's bleachers, with the marching band in "10 Things I Hate About You" (sighsss ... ).
> 
> Their setting in my mind was around Tribeca or 57th St. in Manhattan.

* * *

 

Same disaster, different scene, that was what’s happening to Darcy Lewis’ Friday night. She blamed it entirely to the God of Thunder. For swooping Jane Foster’s science ass off her feet. Because you see, that very action had ignited a chain-reaction that lead to a certain thing going on in the lab. And it’s been going on for months.

The once Ms.  _Love-is-nothing-but-your-prefrontal-cortex-high-on-crack_  was getting her fairy godmother slash matchmaker from hell vibe (again). She now thinks that everyone deserves to be happy, to be  _(gasp)_  in love! She  _kindly_  sets her poor single assistant up with a guy, another different guy ( _Oh this one is different Darce, he’s perfect, you’ll see!_ \- said she). Darcy said 'no’, obviously, but turned out it wasn’t easy saying no to Jane. Not when she begged you with those pair of adorable puppy-doe-eyes. 

The 5’9”, sandy blonde, kind faced, Professor Jake Martel was one of Jane’s college friends (translation: nerd). He’s a sweet guy, a  _reaaaally_  nice guy, and truthfully she had no problem whatsoever hanging out with a nerd, a geek, or even a freak, absolutely not, but this one is something else.

After thirty minutes of ‘getting acquaintance’ with each other, Darcy knew all that she needs (not really) to know about … his mother (yes,  _his_  mother). So when the guy was about to start on another one of his mother’s grade A parenting tips, she decided to call it a night. That  _‘- and then mother said –‘_  was the last straw for her.

She politely excused herself as to not hurt his tender feelings, like most adult would of course (duh!), she faked a phone call and said that she had a sudden emergency back at home.

Things were getting too weird now that she thinks about it, that mommy’s boy back there was her third blind-date from Madam Foster. All three ended up in disaster, the kinds that you’d think only existed in movies or prank shows. If she didn’t know any better she’d think the gods above (or a certain god down here) were messing with her (non-existence) love life.

The window glasses along the sidewalk from the buildings she passed cast her reflection. A young woman, dare she adds, quite charming one, is staring back at her.  _Ugh_ … to think that she actually put on her ‘big girl’ wardrobe this evening was like a bitchslap on the face, she even wore her new booties! Thank goodness they’re fantastic to walk on (other than making her ass looks fab) because tonight, she feels like walking down the bustling street of breezy New York is more of a better option than taking the subway or the cab. Nobody was waiting at home anyway, not even a cat, there was no point in rushing. Besides this pungent taste she got from another date gone awry needs to be wash out from her system just like the rest of her horrible week.

Luckily it was a beautiful night, a perfect night. Aside from the twinkling city lights and the endless laughter bellows by the city that never sleeps, the drifting wind was whispering the scent of smoldering leaves, and once again, the silver moon was high and clear and bright. Just like  _that_  night.

Yes, that night. She didn’t  _exactly_  remember what really went on, that part wasn't a lie, but what would be a lie was to say that she forgot on  _whom_  had appeared in her dream afterwards.

 

It was him. 

 

That cheeky bastard, the god of mischief and lies (and probably of stupid pranks, chaos and mayhem,  _aaand_  killer cheekbones too). The one that took her on a walk under a moonlit New York, the bewitching prince, it was Loki. No matter how wasted she was, her brain couldn’t possibly mistake that part. Why? She doesn’t think she’s ready to hear the answer herself.

 

_Coward!_

 

No, not a coward, she's the very definition of responsibility! Yep, that's right, Darcy Lewis is a sensible responsible grown-up woman! This time (for once) she can proudly pats herself on the back for not giving in to her curiosity and want.

 

_Now you admit that you want him?_

Shut up inner-tramp! So what? At least she didn't do anything rash about it!

_'Cause you're a coward._

 

The annoying thought stops her on her steady steps. She rummages her bag to search for the smartphone. She stares at the glowing screen, scroll at the menu to find her contact list. And there he is, smugly placed on top of other names, her mysterious ‘Asshat King’.

 

Admittedly, the accusation wasn't too far off. She didn't call him, that maybe true, but that didn’t stop her from spending embarrassing amount of time gazing into the screen before she went to sleep or during lunch breaks or at times when work gets dull or … or … or,  _well,_  basically every goddamn time she had the smartassphone on her hand! Those moments where her thumb was lingering, hovering above the call button. Which was downright stupid, and Darcy fucking Lewis wasn’t stupid nor was she a coward!

 

_Lewis, this isn’t high-school, just call the damn number!_

 

Nervous sigh left her lips as she finally did what her conscience was telling her. She scrunched her eyes, sucked in her breath as she dreadfully waits for the connection to reach the other line. At the sound of the first pulse, she regrets her decision immediately, giving her right thumb the evil eye as she mumbled, _'mutiny!'_  

As if on cue, following the pulse,  _they_  appear out of the blue, flocks of bees and butterflies frolicking inside her gut, giving her that sickening yet warm tingling feelings that you got the first time you call your crush when you were fourteen ...

 _A crush?_   _What the hell Lewis!_  No logical woman should hold a crush for a crazy megalomaniac dude who once tried to take over the world! No matter how (very) pretty and lonely he looks or how  ~~delicious~~  nice he smells! (Bergamot. Sandalwood.  _Dammit!_ )

 

Second pulse.

 

A litany of ‘oh-crap-oh-shit’ was playing on loop inside her head. She’s really doing this, she cannot believe she’s finally doing this!

 

_Bitch please, you know you wanted to!_

 

Probably, but now her galloping heartbeat was accelerating like mad, super sonic mad, it was painstakingly tap dancing onto her sternum, what if she got into shock? What if she got a heart attack?

 

Third pulse.

 

No. No -  _no_  - no hoe don’t do it! Abort! Abort this pointless mission!  _Yes,_  you are stupid and  _yes,_  you are a coward! But at least you’re a stupid coward that will live another day to rectify that!

 

With cold sweat seeping on her palm she immediately cuts the line, completely shut her phone off and drops it back inside her bag like a hot potato.

After a few moments of breathing in and out, the rush of adrenaline wore off, her somersaulting heart was back into its normal beat and she was back on her track … when something caught her ears. The sound of an accordion playing a familiar old song. She turns to find it came from this glowing pretty place, a brand new addition on that street so it seemed, a restaurant, a small but cozy looking trattoria, in between the French florist and the hip fancy bar she visited a month ago on Erik’s birthday.  _That’s odd_. She passed this street almost every day, yet she never saw it before.

From the rustic wide arching windows she can see candlelight were twinkling from the inside, the warm and whimsical place looks so inviting, not the kind of place you’d be expecting to find in the middle of this city. It looked like it came out from a province somewhere in Tuscan. Before she knows it her brave feet were taking the initiative, they stepped inside.

The place was as warm as she had imagined, with natural stone furnace shimmering in the center, wild flowers arranged on every table with their white-and-red-checkered tablecloths. The sunset-brick wall and terracotta tile magnifying the illusion of her sweet old grand mama’s house during her early summer days. And the smell,  _mmmh_ , the scrumptious scent from their kitchen immediately rouses her appetite, it makes her empty stomach instantly growls (she fled her date before the actual meal was served). Then this weirdest thing happened.

 

“ _Buonasera_ _principessa,_  we’ve been expecting you.” Greeted a rotund man with his thick accent and wide friendly smile. He rounded himself from the counter and walked towards her, as if he knew her, as if  _she_ knew him.

 

“Come, come, your table is right out that door.” He ushers his still bewildered guest.

 

“Me? You were expecting me?” She asked skeptically, pointing to herself.

 

“Yes,  _si,_  you. We’ve prepared our most delectable dish for your evening.” Another beaming smile on his face as the man talks animatedly with his hands.

 

 _This_ is definitely a mistake … but, it’s not like she was asking for it, and she  _is_  starving and he did say delectable (her stomach made another statement at the word). Getting a table in this kind of place without a reservation on a weekend would be impossible.

_Just take it Lewis, how bad could it be?_

 

She looks around for a few moment, the place was packed and she got her tazer on the ready shall he dares to try anything funny. After the brief pondering, she finally decided to give it a go, “If you say so.” 

The man took her beyond the dining area, where there’s this wooden door that looks so much like Bilbo’s door (but bigger) await. He nods and wiggles his bushy eyebrows at her, telling her to pass through.

Tentatively her hand grips the handle and push the door open, it made a small creaking sound. At once a gust of cold wind and the scent of autumn leaves kisses her face. With one foot after the other, she crossed the threshold. What lie before her eyes make her mouth fall open with a tiny gasp.

If possible, it was even more breathtaking outside. Above her head, from one pillar to the next were wild vines entwined with small lights attached to them. As she steps further, the beautiful night sky was stretched before her, heralding the arrogant moon and the twinkling stars. On the cobblestone under her feet, there were candles - everywhere, leading to that one spot. An empty candle-lit table for two with champagne and roses adorn its surface.

 

_Crap, was she crashing on someone’s date? She maybe hungry, but not that desperate (maybe a little, microscopic)!_

 

Still she walks closer to the table, one step, two steps, dousing in her enchanting surrounding. That was when her smartphone started to ring. It was  **NOT**  supposed to ring. She remembered shutting the thing off, but it was ringing. How can it possibly rings?!

She fetched it out of her bag once more, and as the increasing thumping that rams her by the ribcage made a huge comeback she read the caller ID gleaming on the screen ...

 

_Holy mother of -_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ to be continued ~


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

 

 

As the prodigal brother in atonement, Loki was once again, out on a field mission with ‘the mighty’ god of thunder. Still he got to admit that it was better, tolerable than being kept in the dungeon of Asgard for eternity, wilting his precious life away, with boredom eating him alive more and more each day.

Though it’s early morning in this foreign land they were in, the sky above them is still dark and bitter, as if Dagr’s chariot was being outraced by Nótt’s. It was different than the shimmering nighttime in Asgard, even in New York. Thinking of the lively city, his new ‘home’, got his mind wandering, to a certain place, a certain mortal. That was when he felt a buzz on his leather pants. It came from the mortal made device, his phone.

Loki quickly sheathed his knives, surely Thor can handle those brutes himself (they were in a middle of a battle). He took a quick glance towards his charging brother whilst trying to plant his feet firmly on the quaking ground. Excitement painted on Thor’s face as he bashed his enemy with his lighting charge and galling whirlwind (‘ _Was that all you got? Ha-ha!’_ ). Yes, it is safe to conclude that the golden prince can manage the situation on his own. After creating a pair of double to dance alongside Thor, he teleported himself away from the hum drum racket of the battlefield.

By the time he took out the phone, it was no longer vibrating. But he knew who was calling, and in an instance it got his blood rushing on a high tide.

 

It was her.

 

The assistant, the bright boisterously charming lady that captured his interest, Darcy Lewis.

A smirk on his face as Loki gazes at his phone screen, too bad it was cut short before he got the chance to answer it. But no matter, the most important point was that she finally conceded 

If at first he was fascinated, now Loki was thoroughly enchanted with this amusing woman. After that night, he found his eyes were always searching for her. It didn't take him long to learn new random things about her. She’s more than just easy on the eyes (those eyes, those lips), the smart girl hid a kind heart behind those layered clothes she wore, behind her witty and sometimes rude jokes, as a result, people don’t take her too seriously. She thought no one noticed, and perhaps she was right, but he did. Grew up under those blinding suns Loki learnt how to play along with everyone, to live in stealth, veiled by the comfort of shadows, it was not fun, but he couldn’t say that it was unpleasant either for he never had the same passion as the other Asgardians (not that he was one). Thus looking at her, he felt a sense of familiarity, and somehow the odd thought made the unsettling hollow festering inside his heart a bit more bearable.

As the days passed, though not much words were spoken between them, he felt like he knew her more and more. How could he not? Every expression was practically painted all over her fair face. Her bashful smile, those stolen glances she threw his way when she thought no one noticed, those fleeting moments aggravated his elusive patience. The agonizing wait stretched out longer that he had expected even with the bait saved into her phone, easy for the taking.

He tried to give her a bit of a push, by visiting the lab much more often than necessary, nudging her with little tricks, all harmless of course, just to evoke some active reaction out of her ( _‘I saved it before I left, I swear Jane, the gods of technology hate me, they just do_ ’ _)_ , and he wouldn’t admit it should anyone ask, but he spiked a few spells on her dates too, those mortal men were natural born idiots to begin with anyway. He knew she was smart enough to guess who caused all that, and he was ready for her wrath, for her to act on her impulses, just like she always did with everyone else. Turns out, his prediction fell short, her head was harder than that of a mule.

From the charm he whispered to her phone he knew how many times exactly the woman had argued with her conscience, her logic at war with her heart, to call or not to call.

 

It was ninety-nine times.

 

Honestly, it was not entirely disappointing, because each (mostly) night when he lays his head on his bed and her on hers, it became the one thing he looks forward to. As if there’s this little game, a secret bond, a silent connection weaving between them, and the string grew tauter with the passing seconds, like a bow ready for the draw.  _Will she do it?_  He asked himself repeatedly. Somehow it gets quite exciting, averting the tediousness away at the end of his boring days caused by the Avengers and their good deeds. Really, looking at the soldier’s disapproving face and hearing Thor’s gruff voice yelled out  _‘LOKI!!!’_  each time he was trying to have some ‘fun’ was getting dull, the only two person who actually laughed at his 'joke' were Stark and of course, Darcy Lewis.

More than once the thought to end the chase came to him, it would be much easier, practical to just come at her straightforward, point blank, but, her silly antics were too endearing to miss, moreover he wanted her to want it, to take the leap. But still, even the god of mischief has his limit, because as the days passed, she was still firm in her resolution. She hesitated and ignored her heart times and again. His hope went crashing down along with her desire, though it re-awakens with a new vigor each time the new sun drawing in a new day.

Tonight’s missed call was unexpected (though he thanks the gods all the same), the mortal really had the worse timing as he was literally standing a continent apart. From his vantage he could still see his brother’s twirling his Mjolnir towards the thunderous dark sky with his  _‘I-am-Thor-hear-me-roar’_  exultation, and positively will end another witless battle with those pathetic souls who tried to take over Thor’s cherished Midgard. Pathetic, those aspiring usurpers should’ve sought advice from him first for a better invasion.  _Hmm_. Perhaps he should invent the job, ‘Consulting Despotist’. 

After he tucked the thought inside his brain, Loki peers down at the phone again, it was pretty clear he was no longer needed here and he wasn’t going to let this one precious missed call slide just like that. No Darcy Lewis, not tonight.

  

***

 

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ to be continued ~


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this will make sense, I haven't seen it around AO3 and not sure whether you girls will like it, but I just wanted to do some sort of a short comic because ... ~~I got carried away with my drawings~~ pictures speak louder than words (hopefully).
> 
> The standard typeface are Darcy's line while the _(italics)_ are Loki's.
> 
> Without further ado, here's the latest chapter,
> 
> Enjoy darlings!  
> xxoo

* * *

  

 

Darcy fled, swift as her feet took her inside, they took her out twice as fast. And her smartphone, it keeps on ringing.  _Shit – shit – shit!_

Loki found her running in haste, running from the illusion of promises that awaits. All the while dodging his calls.  _Damn – damn - damn!_

 

 

***

 

 

What am I running for?

_(Don’t run.)_

 

...

 

Are you just going to keep on wondering? Without really knowing?

_(No. No more wondering.)_

...

 

Yes. No more. I want to know.

Thus she finally thumbed the green button and turned on her heels,

 

...

 

 "Asshat ... king?"

“Milady?”

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

~ FIN ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you like my cookies?


End file.
